Turnabout, Scientifically Speaking
by DezoPenguin
Summary: Ema Skye's new life in Europe stretches out with promise before her...except that she can't even get to the airport without facing a murder charge. Can Phoenix clear her again?
1. Chapter 1

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Although I've tried to avoid depending heavily on the reader having knowledge of the game itself to be able to follow the internal story plot...honestly, having finished Case 5 of Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney would help a lot._

Outside the train window, buildings flickered past one by one, spilling shadows across Ema Skye's compartment. It was a literal "road out of town" for her as the sights and sounds of the city she'd called home for the nearly sixteen years of her life each moved on by. There was a certain poignancy to it, but she was more excited than sad. Yes, Ema's sister Lana had been arrested for her part in the evidence fraud and corruption scandal that blazed from every headline and was facing jail time, but blowing the lid off that scandal had also blown the lid off the frigid reserve Lana had maintained for two years, the emotional firewall that had insulated her from the suffering she was enduring but which had also distanced her from everyone in her life.

Ema was on her way to catch a plane to Europe, but she felt closer to Lana than she had while living with her sister for the past two years.

And, the friend Lana had arranged for Ema to stay with was a famous coroner! It would give Ema the chance to study first-hand the latest European police methods, helping her on her way towards becoming a scientific investigator. All in all, Ema Skye's life was looking up in a way it hadn't for years.

A knock at the door to her compartment surprised her out of her reverie.

"Hello? Who's there?"

The knock was repeated--three quick raps. Ema got up and went to the door, then turned the handle.

The bulk of the huge man falling in against her knocked her back, then pinned her legs to the floor. It took a moment for her to work herself free from what was, quite literally, dead weight.

Then, she took the logical, scientifically appropriate action, and screamed.

-X X X-

_Does every woman I know have to be arrested for murder?_ I thought ruefully.

"I still don't understand why you didn't call me until the morning of the trial, Ema!"

"I told you, Mr. Wright; I just didn't believe that they would actually accuse me. After all, a careful police investigation based upon a scientific examination of the evidence would be certain to show that I was not guilty."

Had it somehow escaped her that the last time we had been in court together it had been to expose a scheme of murder, corruption, and forged evidence?

"It wasn't until this morning until I realized that this was real, that they actually thought I did this!"

I sighed. I suppose it made sense. Ema always had a lot if faith in the people she cared about, including the detectives and forensic investigators of the police department who were doing the work she wanted to one day. It was just like her to trust them until the last minute, It was also like her to trust me to be able to defend her with no lead time to investigate.

_It might have been better if she had a little less trust._

"All right, then. Let's go on in."

We took our places at the defense bar. The courtroom was packed with spectators, probably because of Ema's role in exposing the corruption scandal.

_If you ever read the headlines, Phoenix, you'd probably have heard about this case early enough to investigate it!_

The judge's gavel struck, cutting sharply through the murmuring crowd. With his long, flowing white beard, he looked the very image of keen insight and Solomon-like sagacity.

_Oh, how I wish it was true._

"Order! The court in the case of the People versus Ema Skye is now in session."

"Ready for the defense, Your Honor." _Yeah, right._

"Ready for the prosecution, Your Honor."

Here we'd finally caught a break. Lana Skye had been Chief Prosecutor for the district, but she was now in jail. Manfred von Karma had likewise taken his forty-year perfect record to the wrong side of the bars (was there a theme here?). Miles Edgeworth had been the exception, a top prosecutor proven completely innocent of intentional wrongdoing, but nonetheless he had resigned, his rigid sense of honor unable to deal with the fact that he had used forged evidence in court to obtain convictions. More by a process of elimination than anything else, Ema's case had fallen to Winston Payne.

"Does the prosecution have an opening statement?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Payne declared in his thin, reedy voice. "The victim, Hermann Bosc, was an investigator with the forensics department. Among his most famous cases was the so-called SL-9 Incident, in which Detective Bosc was responsible for investigating the forged evidence planted by Lana Skye, the defendant's older sister. Bosc approved this evidence, thereby setting the stage for the heartbreaking tragedy that entrapped the defendant's family. The prosecution will show that Ms. Skye lured Bosc to her compartment on the train, that she shot him dead, intending that by the time the crime was discovered and her association with it revealed, she would have already been on a plane out of the country! She did this out of a sense of revenge, revenge on a man who had proclaimed himself an expert in her beloved scientific investigation but whose inadequacy in this area led to so much suffering for the defendant! He betrayed her ideals _and_ betrayed her family, so she exacted summary justice!"

_D-did I say it was a break we'd drawn Payne as prosecutor?_

"A most heinous crime indeed!" marveled the judge.

_Um...you could at least wait for the evidence before saying that..._

"Call your first witness, Mr. Payne."

"The prosecution calls Angus Macintosh to the stand."

The bailiff brought a little old man forward. Macintosh wore a dark blue uniform pressed to military crispness and had a bushy, drooping moustache whose ends nearly brushed his collar.

"State your name and occupation, please."

"Och and begorrah, laddy-buck! Eee doo be Angus Macintosh oo th' Clan Macintosh, an' ee'l 'ave yer hide fer haggis if ye doon't think I--"

"Objection!" I snapped. "I have no idea what this witness is trying to say!"

The judge nodded.

"Objection sustained. The witness will refrain from poor imitations of a Scots accent while testifying," he instructed. "We don't need any lawsuits over ethnic insensitivity causing trouble on appeal."

"Oh, fine, spoil an old man's fun." He glared daggers at me. "My name is Angus Macintosh, and I'm the conductor of the Airway Express train."

"Just what is the Airway Express?" Payne asked.

"It's a special express shuttle train that runs between the main depot downtown and the airport. The run takes twenty-five minutes, and there's a trip out or back every half hour, for a total of ten round trips each day. There's two coach cars and one car of first-class compartments."

"By 'express' train you mean that it doesn't make any stops?"

"Only at the end of the line."

"So it would be impossible for anyone to get on or off en route?"

"Wel, you could get off if you didn't care too much about staying healthy."

Payne took a sheet of paper and handed it to Macintosh.

"Can you identify this list?"

"Sure. It's a passenger list from the 2:30 run from downtown to the airport. It's stamped with the date and time at the top, it has a list of coach passengers, and a list of first-class passengers with their compartment numbers."

"Do you find the victim's name?"

Macintosh checked the list over.

"Yep. He's here. He has Compartment #3. Well...had, I guess."

"What about the defendant?"

"She had Compartment #9."

"Very well; I ask that this list be entered as evidence."

"The Court accepts the list into the record."

Payne nodded.

"Now, Mr. Macintosh, did you speak to the victim on the day of the crime?"

Macintosh's moustache twitched.

"Well of course I did. I'm the conductor, ain't I? I had to take his ticket."

"Is that all you did? Didn't you talk to him as well?"

"Well, I don't know if you'd call it talking. He asked me if there was a girl named Ema Skye on the train, so I checked my list and said there was and she was in Compartment #9."

"He was looking for me?" Ema said, surprised. "Mr. Wright, why would he be doing that? How did he even know that I was on the train?"

"I don't know, Ema." _Good questions, though._

"Now, let's move on to later in the trip. How did you first find out that there was a murder?"

"Well, I heard this girl screaming to beat the band, so I came out of my office--"

"Your 'office'? What do you mean by that?"

"Well, dadburn it, if you'd quit interrupting me I'd _tell_ you." The moustache-ends twitched aggressively, each one rising and falling in turn as Macintosh flexed his lip. "It's what would be Compartment #10, but instead it's fixed-up as a place for me to write up my reports. There's even a wireless fax so I can send in the list of tickets and who did or didn't make it on the train."

"So you were there and you ran out into the hall?"

"That's right. The door to Compartment #9 was open, so I looked inside. I saw the victim on the floor, and that girl standing over him. I checked the man to make sure there wasn't anything I could do for him, shooed the other first-class passengers who'd come to gawk back to their compartments, then I took the girl back to my compartment and called the police. They met us when the train got to the airport. That's all I know."

"I see. These are very suspicious circumstances indeed," declared the judge. "You may cross-examine now, Mr. Wright."

Yeah, but what was I supposed to cross-examine him _about_? _Oh, well, I suppose I have to try something._

"Mr. Macintosh, when Detective Bosc asked you where the defendant's compartment was, did he tell you why he wanted to know?"

"Nope."

"So why did you tell him?"

The moustache twitched twice.

"Eh, what's that?"

"Do you always tell strange men where to find young women on the train?"

He jerked his head back as if struck, and the moustache swung into a U shape with the motion.

"Just what are you implying, you spiky-headed shyster? He was a police officer, wasn't he?"

"But how did you know that?"

"Well, he told me, didn't he?"

_Um...why, exactly, are you asking _me

I cleared my throat.

"So...you're saying that when Detective Bosc asked about Ema, he told you that he was a police officer on official business?"

Macintosh's head bobbed up and down like he was one of those spring-necked dolls.

"Yessiree, that was it exactly. He asked about that Miss Skye, then when I wouldn't tell him right off, he lugged out his badge. 'Course, then I just had to talk, right?"

"Like any law-abiding citizen," Payne cut in, "Mr. Macintosh was perfectly willing to assist a police officer in the course of his duties. I hardly think being browbeaten by a defense attorney is a fair way to repay him!"

_Yeesh, for a minute there he sounded just like Edgeworth! What's going on with him?_

"Quite right, Mr. Payne," agreed the judge. "I think we need to move on."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" I shot back. "Why would there be a police investigation of Ema? And why would someone from the forensics department be sent to ask her questions, anyway?"

"Objection!" Payne screeched, his shrill voice threatening to pop my eardrums. "You can't expect that a train conductor would know about the inner workings of the Police Department, Mr. Wright!"

The judge nodded sagely.

"That's very true. We can only be expected to know our own jobs. Why, if it was me on the stand, could I be expected to testify about the law?"

_Er, that _is_ your job._

"Maybe you'd better just move on," Ema advised.

"Maybe so," I agreed, and turned back to Macintosh.

"How long after you heard the scream did it take you to get out into the hall?"

"No more than a couple of seconds."

"And you didn't see anyone?"

"Not a soul. The corridor was empty--at least at first. Then people started popping their heads out to see what the noise was."

I rubbed my chin, thinking that over. Payne didn't give me the chance to collect my thoughts, though.

"Of course there was no one there! That girl there was the murderer! There's no doubt about it."

"This testimony doesn't prove a thing."

Payne shook his head.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Mr. Wright." He smiled, kind of a creepy little grin. "We've only just begun!"

I was afraid of that.


	2. Chapter 2

While the police witnesses were being called to court, Ema and I at last had the chance to talk things over in the defendant's lobby.

"Do all the defendant's lobbies have that same picture on the wall?" she asked, looking at the pastoral scene hanging over the couch.

"Pretty much. I think the contractors must have gotten a bulk deal on prints."

"Prints? Oh, I thought they might have been evidence seized in a famous art forgery case."

_I don't think they keep evidence on the courthouse wall._

"Ema...did you know Detective Bosc, the way Payne said?"

"No, not at all! I had no idea who analyzed the SL-9 evidence for the forensics department. Besides, I'd never blame them for not detecting the fraud. Lana is far too smart! Anything she faked, she'd be sure no one could figure it out just by examining it!"

_I guess it's good that you have faith in your sister..._

"And you have no idea what he wanted to talk to you about?"

"None at all, and the detectives who questioned me didn't say anything about it, either. They just asked me about Detective Bosc's killing." She hung her head. "I...I can't believe this is real, Mr. Wright. You just got through proving my sister didn't kill a detective, and now you have to do the exact same thing for me!"

"That does seem a little strange."

"Scientifically speaking, I'd say there was less than a 0.0001 chance of that happening in one family."

I wondered how one would actually analyze that kind of statistic.

"Hey, pal!" a booming voice interrupted.

"Eeek!" Ema yelped.

"Guess I'm interrupting something. I'll come back later."

"Detective Gumshoe, come back!" I called. Gumshoe had already gotten a good five steps away by that time, but spun on his heel and came rushing back.

"Hey, you've got a lot of nerve making a guy run around like that, pal!" he barked.

"At least you didn't get slapped this time."

"Yeah...good point," he decided, rubbing his jaw.

"I said I was sorry," said Ema. "Besides, as a detective you should know it isn't right to sneak up on young women."

_That didn't sound quite right, somehow._

"You had something to tell us, Detective?" I said, conscious of the passing time.

Dick Gumshoe was an interesting person. He was big and broad-shouldered, but otherwise looked like he'd just stepped out of a rerun of _Columbo_--rumpled trenchcoat, messy hair, unshaven stubble, pencil over one ear, tie loose and dangling down to about his second shirt button. Like Columbo, he presented an image of genial, bumbling stupidity. This was not, however, and act. On the other hand, he was energetic, earnest, and played fair with the evidence.

"Yeah, well, it's this murder case."

"Yes?"

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"They're calling me in to testify next, but...I just can't believe Miss Skye would do something like this, not after all you two have been through and what you did for Mr. Edgeworth."

I nodded.

"We agree with that. But, if you didn't believe Ema was guilty, then why was she arrested?"

"Well, that was Prosecutor Payne's decision. He said, 'based on the available evidence, she's surely guilty!' Since he's in charge of the investigation, that was that."

Payne again.

"Come to think of it...Detective, have you noticed that Payne seems more...forceful, somehow? I mean, the last time I faced him in court, it was my very first trial, but he left all kinds of holes open for me, and his witness's testimony was shakier than a house of cards. Has Edgeworth been giving him lessons or something?"

"Don't you remember?" Gumshoe asked. "Winston Payne used to be a top-notch prosecutor. They even called him the 'rookie buster' because he would crush rookie defense attorneys so badly that they would give up the law! A few years ago, though, something happened and he lost his confidence. Ever since then, he's been stuck with low-priority cases, the ones the Chief Prosecutor felt didn't take a courtroom ace to win because the facts were solid and the defense attorney a pushover."

"I see..."

_Hey, wait! "Pushover"...?_

"So this case is Mr. Payne's big chance?" Ema asked.

"Right, pal. He figures with so much turnover in the Prosecutor's Office lately, if he can dig in and win a big murder case, it's his chance to move up in the ranks."

"And the name Skye is big news," I mulled it over, "because of Lana's arrest. No wonder Payne is going so hard after Ema. Her name keeps the case in the headlines!"

"But that's not fair!" Ema exclaimed.

"Well, it's not just that," Gumshoe observed. "There is some evidence out there, too. I just thought you ought to know the rest of it, that's all. Anyway, I gotta go."

I nodded.

"Yes, it's almost time for court to resume."

He scurried off, and just in time, because in the next minute the bailiff came out to announce that court was back in session.

Wasting no time, Winston Payne called Detective Gumshoe to the stand.

"Now, Detective, you were ordered to the scene when the conductor called the police, is that right?"

"Yes, sir. The dispatcher said we were to meet the Airway Express at the airport. When it pulled in, I got on board, then went back to the first-class car. Bartlett opened the door for me."

"Hold it!" I interrupted. "Isn't the conductor named Macintosh?"

"Yeah, he is. I meant Randall Bartlett."

"Detective Bartlett is the police forensics investigator who worked the crime scene with Detective Gumshoe," Payne said. "He'll be my next witness."

"I see."

"I guess you were confusing apples and pears, Mr. Wright," Ema said.

_Um...shouldn't that be "apples and oranges"?_

"Okay, but why did he have to open the door? Were your arms full?"

Gumshoe looked around as if for a way of escape, then grinned sheepishly.

"Well, no, the door was locked."

_A detective who gets locked out of his own crime scene..._

"The doors between the second coach car and the first-class car on the train lock from the inside," Payne explained. "Since there are no dining or lounge car facilities on a thirty-minute shuttle, there's no need to move, and it keeps people from sneaking into first class without paying."

"So Bartlett let you in. Please continue your testimony, Detective," said the judge.

"Well, the conductor showed us to Compartment #9. Hermann Bosc was sprawled on the floor just inside the door, dead. He'd been shot once with a 9mm pistol."

"Did you search the body, Detective?" asked Payne.

"Yes, I did."

"What did you find in the left-hand pocket?"

"I found a crumpled-up piece of paper. I guess it was a note he'd shoved in his pocket."

"The prosecution would like to introduce this note in evidence. Would you please read it to the court?"

Gumshoe's eyes flicked my way.

_Uh oh. This isn't going to be good._

He took a piece of paper sealed in a plastic sheath out of his jacket.

"'Detective Bosc, I have to talk with you before I leave the country. Please, please meet me on the 2:30 Airway Express shuttle! Ema Skye.'"

The courtroom burst into activity, the spectators commenting excitedly about the note.

"Order! Order!" the judge hammered his gavel.

"Let me see that, Detective," I quickly asked. If this really was a note from Ema...

"Wait a second!" I exclaimed when the bailiff set the note on the desk. "Detective Gumshoe, this note isn't written!"

"Um...no, it's not," he agreed in the slow voice of someone explaining the obvious to the very stupid.

"This note was printed on a computer. It's not even a distinctive font! Anyone could have done this."

"Maybe so," Payne sliced in before I could build up a head of steam, "but it was Ema Skye the victim went to see, and Ema Skye's compartment where he was found dead! Ema Skye, Mr. Wright, not 'anyone'!"

There was something wrong with that logic somewhere, I was sure.

"Well, that sounds perfectly logical," commented the judge. "Proceed with the testimony, Mr. Payne."

"Now, Detective Gumshoe, why don't you tell us about what you found in the victim's _right_ coat pocket?"

"Um...do I have to?"

"Do you want to get a paycheck this month?"

Gumshoe sighed and hung his head.

"I found a couple of things in the victim's pocket. First, there was a 9mm caliber automatic pistol. I turned that over to Bartlett to test for ballistics and prints. I also found a pair of gloves."

"Gloves?"

"Thin rubber surgical gloves. The kind investigators use to keep from leaving their own prints or other evidence at a crime scene."

"Or that a murderer uses to keep from leaving fingerprints?"

"Yeah, I've seen a couple cases like that."

"Now, did you question the defendant?"

"Yes."

"And did she make any statement?"

"She claimed that she heard a knock at the door, and that when she opened it, the victim's body fell into her compartment, so she screamed."

"And she didn't explain what she'd wanted to talk with Detective Bosc about?"

"No."

"Or why she wrote the note?"

"She denied ever sending any note."

"Thank you. That's all, Detective."

"The defense may now cross-examine the witness."

It seemed strange to me that Payne hadn't had Gumshoe go into further detail. Maybe he intended to have the forensics expert, Bartlett, explain things in depth because Bartlett had performed the lab tests. Or maybe it was because he knew Gumshoe was friendly with Ema and me.

Ema tugged at my sleeve.

"Mr. Wright, aren't you going to cross-examine?"

"Yes, but..."

"You don't think I did it, do you?"

I shook my head.

"No, of course not."

_I just don't want to walk your chances into a carefully set trap._

"Detective Gumshoe," I began hesitantly, "you found that the victim was shot with a 9mm pistol, and you found that he was carrying a 9mm pistol. Do you know if that was the murder weapon?"

"Objection!" Payne screeched. "The witness has said he gave the gun to the forensics expert! He didn't test the gun himself."

"Objection sustained. You ought to pay more attention, Mr. Wright."

_This from you?_

"Well, is there anything about the gun you haven't told us that you _do_ know, Detective?"

Gumshoe flashed one of his broad grins, probably because he'd gotten the chance to talk.

"Yeah. I checked the clip and it was one bullet short. I sniffed the barrel and it had been fired recently."

I tried to imagine a police detective sniffing at the barrel of a loaded gun, then decided I really didn't want the picture in my head.

"Did you search the train for a bullet?"

Gumshoe nodded.

"We looked around, but didn't find anything. It's no wonder, since the autopsy found the fatal bullet in the victim's body."

"So Hermann Bosc was shot with a gun you found in his own pocket?" _Ha, Payne, I got it in anyway!_ "That sounds more like suicide than murder to me."

Payne started giggling--not a laugh, but an honest-to-goodness giggle.

_Why do I get the idea that's a bad sign?_

"Detective--tee hee!--Gumshoe, why don't--tee hee!--you give Mr. Wright--tee hee hee!--a copy of the autopsy report?"

Glum-faced, Gumshoe handed the bailiff a manila envelope, which was passed over to me. I opened the file and read the summary at the top.

_Gah! Why me?_

"Um," asked the judge, "could someone please let me in on the joke?"

"He was shot in the back, Your Honor," I sighed.

"Suicide!" Payne kept giggling. "While shot in the back! Tee hee hee hee hee heeeeeeeee!"

"The court will take a ten minute recess in case the prosecution pops a blood vessel," announced the judge.


	3. Chapter 3

"Trial in the case of the People versus Ema Skye is back in session."

"Ready for the defense, Your Honor."

"Ready for the prosecution, Your Honor."

"Very well. As I recall, Detective Gumshoe was on the stand. Is there any further cross-examination, Mr. Wright?"

I shook my head.

"No, Your Honor." _I'd like to keep at least some of my dignity intact._

"Very well. The prosecution calls its next witness, Detective Randall Bartlett."

Bartlett was tall and skinny, with long, gangling arms and legs, a bowl-cut cap of black hair, and a narrow, pointed goatee. With his sallow complexion, bowed-back posture, and off-white lab coat he looked more like a banana than a pear.

"Witness, your name and occupation?"

"Randall Bartlett. I'm an investigator with the forensics department."

"Tell us about the incident."

He swallowed, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"After the police received the call from the Airway Express conductor, the dispatcher paged the available detectives. I called in and took the case, then met the train when it reached the airport. I let Detective Gumshoe into the first-class car, then we went to the crime scene. I recognized Hermann Bosc at once; we'd worked together in forensics for several years. Detective Gumshoe searched the body, and he gave me the evidence that he found--a 9mm automatic pistol and a pair of surgical gloves--for testing."

"Tell us about the gun, first."

"Why is it you prosecutors are always so interested in weapons? Guns, knives, blunt instruments...it's always weapons this and weapons that. Don't you have any respect for--"

"Detective Bartlett! Just answer the question!" squealed Payne.

_Hm. Looks like this guy and Payne don't get along. Maybe I can use that?_

"All right, all right. I made ballistics tests on the gun and verified that it had fired the bullet the autopsy surgeon found in Bosc's body. I compared the powder residue on Bosc's coat with the shells loaded in the gun and also found it consistent. I checked the gun for fingerprints but didn't find any."

"I see. Now, is there a reason why you didn't find prints on the gun?"

"Definitely. The gloves were--"

"Hold it!" I shouted. "The witness was testifying about the gun, but now he's started to talk about the gloves."

"Um...yes, it did sound that way," agreed the judge. "So?"

"So, we've had a lot of testimony from him so far, and I think I should be able to cross-examine him on it before he starts giving new testimony." _Not to mention before I forget what it was he said!_

"Objection! You get to cross-examine him after he testifies! He's not done yet!"

"Objection! He's moving on to an entirely different testimony now. I have the right to cross-examine on each phase of the testimony."

"I think that's the law, Mr. Payne. If it wasn't, Mr. Wright wouldn't get to say anything for quite some time. We want to be fair and balanced here."

I wasn't quite sure that was the point of being fair, but hey, if it worked, who was I to complain?

"Mr. Bartlett, let's start at the beginning. You let Detective Gumshoe into the first-class car, so you beat him to the airport?"

"The forensics department's motto this month is 'Don't let the scene grow stale.' But that's not the real reason." He grinned toothily. "I just got on the train in the first-class car. Detective Gumshoe wasn't paying attention to that stuff."

"And I'm sure his salary evaluation will reflect the fact," Payne threatened.

Ema scribbled something down on her pad.

"Note to self: prosecutors are very cost-conscious."

_I don't think that's quite it..._

"Let's just move things along, shall we? I'd like to deliver my verdict by lunchtime."

"Yes, Your Honor." _Good grief._

I collected myself and turned back to Bartlett.

"Now, about the murder weapon, Mr. Bartlett...Was this the victim's gun?"

He shook his head, making his bangs flap back and forth.

"We ran a check on it, but didn't find anything positive. The gun was turned in to the police on one of those trade-back programs they have for street kids."

"So the gun was in police custody?"

"Objection!" Payne shouted, right on cue. "The defendant has been training to become a scientific investigator. In the course of this, she took many classes with the forensics department and would have many opportunities to abstract the weapon. These guns turned in to these 'trade-back' programs are sent to forensics to check their ballistics against unsolved crimes before they are destroyed."

Ema tapped her pencil against her lip.

"Shouldn't it be harder than that to just steal a gun from the Police Department, Mr. Wright?"

"I don't have a whole lot of confidence in them, but yeah..." Going with Ema's idea, I asked Bartlett, "So do you think it really was Detective Bosc who brought the gun? It was in his pocket, after all."

"I hardly think so. In the first place, Bosc died instantly, as you can see if you check that autopsy report, so it obviously wasn't he who put the gun in his pocket after the shooting."

_That autopsy report just keeps coming back and biting me_, I groaned inwardly.

"Besides that, why would Bosc bring a gun to the killer?"

"He might not have known that he was doing that."

Bartlett shook his head.

"No, no, that's overlooking the significance of the fingerprint evidence."

I slammed my hands down on the desk.

"You just said there weren't any fingerprints on the gun!"

"Exactly."

"Um...I don't follow."

Bartlett leaned forward on the stand, propping his elbows up and steepling his fingertips, which he proceeded to drum together.

"It's a matter of scientific logic. That gun was found completely free of prints. However, we know that the gun was handed in at a police 'trade-back' program. At the very least it would have the prints of the person who gave it back to the police. More likely, it would have several sets of prints--probably smudged and worthless--because the gun was not 'evidence' in a crime until now, so its owner would have had no reason to wipe it clean of prints. Since we know the killer wore gloves during the actual crime, the only reason she would have to wipe the prints was that she handled the weapon prior to the crime."

"You keep saying 'she.' It sounds to me like you're biased against the defendant!" I snapped, falling back on the old trial law adage: _If the law is against you, argue the facts; if the facts are against you, pound the table and shout like hell._

"I wouldn't say 'biased,' Mr. Wright. That implies a personal motive. I pride myself on being guided only by the evidence. My belief in this defendant's guilt is based solely upon conclusive, decisive evidence."

_Why doesn't our side ever get any decisive evidence?_

"I'd say the time has come for the next phase of your testimony," Payne suggested. "Go on, Detective."

"Right. Now, about these gloves."

He took that drumming-fingers posture again, which I figured was his Wise Man of Science lecture pose. It'd have worked better with white hair and a decent beard.

"The gloves are the absolute, decisive evidence in this case. They're thin rubber surgical gloves, the kind used by doctors, and also by the Police Department. We use them so we don't contaminate a crime scene with our fingerprints, skin cells, and so on. In this case, the killer used the gloves for the same reason, to handle the gun, the body, and other elements of the crime scene."

"Objection! You just testified that the police use these gloves in their line of work. Detective Bosc was a forensics investigator like yourself." I speared my finger at Bartlett. "How do you know those gloves weren't the victim's? They might have nothing to do with the murder!"

He didn't even flinch.

"Actually, there's three things to connect them directly to this case. First off, Mr. Wright, in the forensics department, we always use fresh gloves from our field kit for each investigation, and they are disposed of when used. Even someone like Bosc wouldn't carry used gloves stuffed in his pocket. Secondly, I tested the gloves in the lab. They tested positive for gunshot residue."

I, on the other hand, flinched big-time.

"G-g-g-gunshot residue?"

"Traces of powder and other chemicals expelled when a weapon is fired. The expanding gases push them in every direction inside the gun, and out through every gap. You can't fire a weapon without leaving GSR behind, Mr. Wright, not unless you somehow build a gun that is completely airtight except for the barrel. In this case, the gloves absorbed the GSR so no traces would be left on the murderer's hands."

I blinked in surprise as my brain slowly caught up to these new developments.

"Okay, but if the gloves absorbed all this...GSR...then you can't prove who was wearing them! There would be no matching residue on the defendant's hands."

Payne began to giggle again.

_Uh oh. Not good._

"Third," Bartlett continued, not even acknowledging that I'd interrupted his spiel, "I found Ms. Skye's fingerprint on the inside of the right middle finger of the gloves, proving beyond all doubt that she was the one who wore them."

"B-but you don't know that she was wearing the gloves _when the shot was fired_," I countered, taking a lesson from Edgeworth. He was always using proof of the time element to shoot down my theories.

"Of course I do, Mr. Wright. Didn't I just say that I only testify to what I can prove with evidence?"

_Von Karma must have loved this guy._

"If anyone other than Ms. Skye had worn the gloves after she did, the print would have been destroyed. Fingerprints are created by the residue of skin oils left on objects. There's no way a second person could have fit the glove tightly over his or her finger the way surgical gloves fit and not have badly smudged the print."

He punched his right fist into his palm.

_"There's no doubt but that she wore those gloves while she fired the shot!"_

Ema gave a little yelp, while the spectators burst into conversation.

"It isn't true, Mr. Wright!" she said, grabbing at my arm. "I didn't shoot him!"

"Then how do you explain this evidence?"

"I...I don't know." She hung her head. "Scientifically speaking, he's absolutely right. The evidence is conclusive. I just don't understand it."

"I don't understand it, either. There's something more going on here."

"Order! Order!" demanded the judge, and eventually got what he wanted.

"Your Honor, the prosecution requests to submit evidence of the scientific tests at this time, including photographs of the developed print and the defendant's fingerprint record. You'll note that they have been counterchecked and the results verified by Detective D'Anjou, so that there is no possibility of forgery."

"So admitted; they will be added to the Court Record."

"Now, Mr. Bartlett, I know you prefer to testify about evidence, but there is one more matter for you to bring out--unless Mr. Wright has any cross-examination at this time?" Payne waggled his eyebrows at me over his glasses.

_Yeah, it went so well last time I did that._

"Um, no, not just yet."

"Very well, then. Please tell the Court about Detective Bosc and his relationship to the defendant."

Bartlett shook his head.

"I wouldn't call it a 'relationship,' Mr. Payne."

"But there's a 'connection,' isn't there? Between Bosc, the defendant...and the SL-9 Incident?"

_Oh, yeah. Payne said something like that in his opening statement._

"The SL-9 Incident was a case that happened two years ago. Just last week, it was revealed that Lana Skye, a detective at the time, had planted forged evidence at a crime scene. Lana Skye is the defendant's sister. Apparently because of the evidence-forging, Lana was blackmailed for two years, and now faces criminal charges not only over the original crime but also the acts she was blackmailed into doing."

"Exactly! Two years of suffering under a blackmailer's thumb, forced to engage in corrupt acts, and now facing a jail sentence! What sister wouldn't want to avenge that?"

"Hold it!" I slammed my hands down on the desk. "That may be true, but you know as well as I do, Payne, that the party responsible has already been arrested after being exposed in Lana's trial! Where does Bosc come into it?"

"All evidence discovered by the police is tested by the forensics department," Payne replied. "The victim was the scientific investigator assigned to SL-9."

"I know you're supposed to speak kindly of the dead," Bartlett said, "but the truth is that Detective Bosc was sloppy in his work. Second-rate! Any competent scientific investigator _should_ have discovered the forgery right away. From what I've seen, the defendant could have done it, even though she's only in training."

"Thank you, Mr. Bartlett!"

"Ema, now many not be the best time to be thanking the prosecution's key witness."

"Oh! Sorry."

"Now do you understand, Mr. Wright?" Payne squealed. "Hermann Bosc could have saved Ema's sister all that, if only he did his job as well as Ema herself could have! Since he had no 'guilty intent,' he wasn't being charged in the corruption case, so Ema had to resort to other means to insure he paid for his lapse! She deliberately lured and shot him, thinking she'd be safely out of the country before anyone would discover her involvement!"

_Oh, boy._


	4. Chapter 4

Things were not looking good for Ema.

"I had no idea that Ms. Skye was such a clever, conniving plotter!" marveled the judge. "She looks so innocent. Who'd have thought it was nothing but a mask covering the heart of a ruthless murderer?"

Yeah. Definitely not good.

"Y-Your Honor!" I spoke up. _Time for some damage control._ "This is nothing but the prosecution's baseless conjecture! How do we even know if Ema knew the victim?"

"Um, actually, Mr. Wright, I did know the victim."

"What?"

"But I didn't know he had anything to do with the SL-9 Incident, I promise!"

"Do you have anything to offer besides constant denials?" Payne said. "This is a court of law, and evidence is necessary to prove a case."

The judge nodded.

"The prosecution is correct, Mr. Wright. If the remainder of your cross-examination cannot reveal some positive proof of your client's innocence, then I will have no alternative but to hand down a 'guilty' verdict."

_Gee, not like there's any pressure or anything._

"Yes, Your Honor."

Randall Bartlett sat smugly, full of intellectual superiority. The evidence was all on his side and he knew it. Payne looked like he wanted to rub his hands together like a movie villain, he was so eager to see me go down in flames. They couldn't be right, could they?

"Mr. Bartlett, you've testified that the gun found in Detective Bosc's pocket was the murder weapon, and that the surgical gloves tested positive for gunshot residue, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's so."

"So what were these items doing in the victim's pocket?"

"I'm not sure that I understand you."

"Did Detective Bosc put them there?"

"Of course not. You've seen the autopsy report. He died instantly, shot in the heart from behind."

"So if the killer, say, dropped the gun and gloves on the floor, Detective Bosc couldn't have put them in his pockets?"

"Certainly not!" Bartlett snapped. "It's a scientific impossibility."

"So how did they get in the victim's pocket?"

"Objection!" Payne interrupted. "This witness is a scientific investigator, not a clairvoyant! He can't tell what the defendant did with the evidence!"

"Objection! The prosecution can't just say the witness can't testify, then go and make claims about what the defendant did!" I shot back.

"I didn't claim what the defendant did!"

"You claimed it was the defendant who did _something_, though!"

"W-well, who else _could_ it be?" Payne stammered.

I grinned triumphantly, resting my hands on my hips.

"That's exactly what I want to cross-examine this witness about, Mr. Payne!"

"Hmm," mused the judge. "You have a point, Mr. Wright. The prosecution's objection is overruled."

"Is that really such an important point, Mr. Wright?" Ema asked.

"Actually," I admitted, "I was just fishing for something to ask."

"What?"

I mulled it over.

"But now that I think about it, Payne was fighting awfully hard to keep me from going there. Maybe...I'm on to something here?"

I pointed at Bartlett.

"You heard the Court. Answer the question!"

"I really can't say. I can only guess the murderer put them there, since the murderer is the one person whom we know had the gloves and gun."

"Exactly! But why did the murderer do that?"

"I couldn't guess, Mr. Wright. Of course, no sensible killer would want to be caught with a murder weapon in her possession. A conviction would be almost automatic."

"So you think the murderer put the gun and gloves in the victim's pocket to get rid of them?"

Bartlett shrugged and spread his hands.

"That seems like a reasonable hypothesis."

"Are you really thinking scientifically?" I barked, slamming the desk. "Your suggestion makes no sense! This is vital evidence, and the victim's pockets are the one place where it would be guaranteed to be found. A scientific investigator in training like Ema would know how much could be learned from these items. _She'd never have put them in so obvious a place!_ Why not open a window and just throw them out?"

"O-objection!" stammered Payne. I'd managed to put a crack in his arrogance at last.

_If it was Edgeworth prosecuting, he'd have had a glib explanation to cut the legs out from under me, but Payne doesn't have that kind of quick wit._

"She...she didn't have time to throw them out the window!" he exclaimed, then grinned and straightened his glasses. "Yes...yes, that was it. When she screamed, the conductor was there in seconds. He was in the very next compartment. Opening a train window takes time, and two hands. She couldn't spare the time!"

_Or I could be wrong._

"That does make sense," the judge told me.

_You would think that, wouldn't you?_

"Of course it makes sense," agreed Bartlett. "She had to get rid of the evidence fast, do she shoved it out of sight, perhaps hoping that we'd mistake the gun and gloves for Bosc's own items." He smiled arrogantly. "She has met Detective Gumshoe, after all, and knows how he thinks."

_Poor Detective Gumshoe. It's pretty harsh when they accuse murderers of planning on police stupidity!_

"So your theory is that when Ema screamed, she didn't have time to do a better job of getting rid of the evidence." I'd hit a wall on this line of questioning...or had I? "Wait a minute! If that's the case, then why did she scream?"

"Is that the best you can do? She's a fifteen-year-old-girl--"

"Almost sixteen!" Ema protested.

"--without experience in life or crime. It's one thing to plan a murder, but to have the body fall at your feet is quite another. She squealed in surprise, ruining her plans."

He spread his hands in the classic "see how obvious it is, you silly defense attorney" pose. He had a point, too.

"That sounds perfectly reasonable," agreed the judge.

"But it's not true!" Ema protested.

I sighed.

"The problem isn't what the 'truth' is, Ema. It's whether we can prove it. What they're saying...fits the evidence."

Ema turned her head.

"I've always believed in scientific investigation," she said. "Eyewitnesses can be unreliable. They trick themselves, or can be confronted by police and attorneys into saying what someone wants to say. Hard evidence established by scientific tests can't lie or be tricked. Now, though, it's turned against me! Even the proof I believe in thinks I'm a killer."

I wanted to say something, to cheer her up, to give her hope, but I was fresh out of either; I couldn't think of a thing.

"I...I guess it's like that book Lana gave me said."

"What book?"

"_Scientific Investigation_, remember? I showed it to you! The introduction said that scientific evidence was the strongest kind we had, but you have to see it all in the correct viewpoint to understand it."

That was true enough. Obviously I was missing something.

"Mr. Wright?" I heard the judge ask, but I wasn't really paying attention. Something _had_ to be wrong with what was being said, something I could _show_ was wrong.

"I hate to interrupt the defense's heart-to-heart talk, but there _is_ a court case going on," sneered Payne. "I think we all are ready for the verdict, Your Honor."

_We all..._ I thought.

_You have to see it all._

"All! Yes, all!"

"Um..." The judge blinked in confusion. "Does anyone know what the defense is talking about?"

"It's the evidence, Your Honor!" I cried excitedly. "It's true that scientifically analyzed evidence is the most reliable and decisive. But! _We can't get an accurate picture of the crime until all the evidence is introduced!_"

The spectators burst into an excited buzz--for the first time today at something _I'd_ said! Of course, with my luck, they were probably saying, "What's that spiky-haired cretin babbling about?" but it was _something._

"W-what are you saying?" stammered Payne. "What do you mean, 'until all the evidence is introduced'? Are you accusing the prosecution of concealing evidence?"

"I'm saying that there's a vital piece of evidence that no one has mentioned in their testimony!" I spun to Bartlett and pointed directly at him. "Witness! _Why don't you testify about the silencer?_"

Bartlett jerked back, his right arm sweeping up the side of his lab coat across his face like he was Dracula and my finger was a cross.

"Objection! No one has mentioned a silencer! How can you cross-examine him about that?"

"Objection! That's exactly why I'm asking about it!"

"Did anyone else follow that?" wondered the judge.

"I certainly didn't!" Payne said.

"Nor I," contributed Bartlett, resuming a more normal pose.

"Um..." Ema said, tapping her lip with the eraser end of her pencil, "I'm afraid that you lost me, too, Mr. Wright."

_Oh, great..._

"Mr. Wright," the judge stated, "you seem to be indicating that the prosecution's witness has held back details about a silencer, but so far we haven't heard anyone mention anything about it."

I nodded firmly.

"Exactly."

"In that case, I'm going to have to ask you for evidence that this silencer you speak of actually exists before I can permit you to continue on this line of questioning."

"It's in the testimony of the prosecution witnesses, Your Honor," I declared firmly.

"Ehhh?" Payne stammered.

"The prosecution's theory of the case is that the defendant lured the victim to her compartment, then shot him, then screamed when the body fell at her feet. The scream alerted the conductor in the very next compartment, who rushed to the scene. The conductor's testimony contained one important omission, however: _he never mentioned hearing a gunshot!_"

"What...but that..."

"Clearly there was no sound to be heard. He couldn't have missed it, being in the very next compartment."

"He...he could have mistaken it for an ordinary noise of the train," Payne attempted to argue, but I shot him down fast on that line.

"Hold it! A conductor of Mr. Macintosh's expertise knows every sound the train makes! You can't expect us to believe he would have missed the sound of a shot!"

"That's a good point, Mr. Wright. If a shot was fired in this courtroom, I wouldn't mistake it for my gavel banging."

"Objection! There's no evidence to say the shot happened immediately before the scream!" Payne went for his second line of defense. "She could have fired the shot when the conductor was in the next car."

I gave Payne my best imitation of the von Karma finger-wag. Man, I have _always_ wanted to do that!

"In that case, then why didn't any of the other first-class passengers hear the shot? If they had, they'd have been called to testify! But more than that, if the shot was fired well before the scream, _it knocks the entire theory of the prosecution into a cocked hat!_"

"Note to self: defense attorneys have an obsession with outdated headwear," Ema said.

"Ehhh?" Payne jerked back as if he'd been punched.

"The prosecution's case hinges on the fact that evidence against Ema was found in the victim's pocket. The excuse they offer is that after shooting Detective Bosc, Ema became scared and screamed, so she didn't have a chance to properly dispose of the evidence. But if the killing happened well before the scream, there was plenty of time! There would be no reason to leave the evidence in such an obvious place!"

_I think I'm finally starting to figure this out..._

"Now, Mr. Bartlett, tell us about the silencer!" I demanded.

"We didn't find one."

"What's that?"

He smiled thinly.

"While I'm sure you'd like to turn this into another 'evidence-forging' scandal, the prosecution isn't holding anything back. There was no silencer found at the crime scene."

"Heh...heh heh heh," Payne laughed weakly, then straightened back up. "That's right, Your Honor! This is a nice theory the defense is offering, but it's only a _theory_. There could be a hundred reasons why Mr. Macintosh didn't hear the gunshot. The fact remains that the only solid evidence before the court is the defendant's fingerprint. Unless the defense can explain away this decisive proof, he's just dragging this trial out with entertaining but pointless storytelling."


	5. Chapter 5

"Unless the defense can explain away this decisive proof, he's just dragging this trial out with entertaining but pointless storytelling," Payne's challenge rang out.

"Actually, Mr. Payne, I think I can explain it."

While Payne was trying to gather the remnants of his cool, I borrowed Ema's notebook and pencil and scribbled a quick note, which I asked the bailiff to give to Detective Gumshoe.

"W-well, then, let's hear it!"

"Yes, Mr. Wright, I'd like to hear your explanation as well," said the judge.

"Well, let's think this through..." I began. "The conductor's evidence proves that Bosc got on the train and was alive after it left the downtown station at 2:30, so he was definitely killed on the train. He was killed by a single gunshot which, somehow, no one heard. The murder weapon and a pair of gloves that Ema had once worn were found in the victim's pocket, obviously placed there by the killer."

"Don't forget," Bartlett pointed out, "that there was gunshot residue on the gloves consistent with the cartridges found in the gun."

_Can't I talk without someone interrupting me with unpleasant evidence?_

"But just because you found 'GSR' on the gloves doesn't mean it was placed there at the same time as the fingerprint!"

"Well, it's true that a fingerprint doesn't come with a date and time stamp, but I can say that it would be impossible for a second person to wear those gloves after Ms. Skye and not obliterate the print with his or her own fingers."

"Hold it! Why are you assuming that the killer _wore_ the gloves?"

"Mr. Wright, they're _gloves_."

"So? They're thin rubber. What if the killer held them and the gun in his hand at the same time. Wouldn't that produce the same results as your scientific tests?"

"Objection!" Payne screeched desperately. "This is...this is ludicrous speculation!"

I pounded the desk.

"Of course it isn't! We're obviously dealing with _planted evidence_ that the murderer wanted the police to find. As a defense attorney, I naturally have to ask about other ways the evidence can be explained. The police theory of the case is one _possibility_ to explain the evidence. But! We need to look at other possibilities to see if they're more likely."

"I'm not sure that I understood all that, but it sounded like something a lawyer would say. Objection overruled!"

"Answer the question, Mr. Bartlett!"

"Well, scientifically speaking, it would be possible," he admitted. "Of course, it presumes one important fact. The murderer would have needed to obtain a pair of gloves that Ema Skye had once worn. There would also be the risk of leaving his own latent prints on the outside of the gloves, and I may point out, Mr. Wright, that the forensics examination found no such prints."

"Yes, but what if the murderer himself...was also wearing gloves?"

He flinched. It was just a little one, but it was there all the same.

"So you think the killer wore one pair of gloves and carried a different pair? Are you claiming Bosc offended someone who works at a glove manufacturer?"

I shook my head.

"No...I think Bosc offended someone who works..."

I paused for dramatic effect.

"..._at the police forensics department!_"

"Whaaaat?"

He did the Dracula-cape thing again.

"How can you say such a thing?" Payne snapped.

"This witness himself testified to the motive! 'Detective Bosc was sloppy in his work. Second-rate!' Those were the exact words. I submit that Detective Bosc's co-workers would have a much stronger motive than the defendant."

"You can't be serious! The SL-9 Incident..."

I slammed my hands on the desk, cutting him off.

"That case is finished! The truth was exposed in this court and the guilty party arrested! It's absurd to assume that Ema would have any further grudge against someone on the periphery of the case!"

Payne doubled up, sweat streaming down his nervous face.

"If anyone had a grudge against Detective Bosc, it would be someone in his own department, someone who believed the forensics staff had lost face from Bosc's errors. Someone like..."

I spun back to the witness.

"Like you, Detective Bartlett!"

Gasps of surprise exploded from everywhere, and the judge had to call for order. Bartlett used the time to tug at his lapels, pulling his coat back into place, and settle his face.

"Absurd!" he barked. "I'm an investigator in this case, not a suspect!"

"Objection! Objection! Objection!" shrieked Payne, each scream growing higher and higher in pitch. "It's absurd, to use the defense's words to even suggest it! It's a defamation of character!"

"Mr. Wright, this court does not look favorably on frivolous claims made by defense attorneys."

"No, Your Honor." _Only the ones made by prosecutors._

"Detective Bartlett is a police officer with a long and well-regarded career. If you are going to accuse him of murder, you need to substantiate it, or else I will have to penalize you."

I nodded.

"I understand, Your Honor."

"And you still wish to continue?"

"I do."

"Very well."

"The truth is inescapable, Detective Bartlett. You could not have faked the results of your forensic tests. There's always the risk that they could be cross-checked, especially by a cautious prosecutor who wants to make sure he's being given accurate evidence. This was, I believe, done in this case."

"So you accuse me of murder, then claim your proof is that I perform my job with precision and accuracy?"

"Indeed--and that's what points right at you, Detective. There's only one place you could have gotten a surgical glove with Ema's fingerprint inside it--from the trash in the police forensics lab after she'd attended a training session! Even a girl like her doesn't wear them on a daily basis."

"What do you mean, even a girl like me?"

"You've already testified that the murder weapon was taken from the Police Department. Again, access to the forensics lab where it was being tested would be needed to get hold of the evidence!"

"Objection! The defendant had as much access to the forensics lab as this witness!"

"Objection! This witness works in the forensics lab! He has more access to it than anyone!"

"The defense's point is well-taken, Mr. Payne," noted the judge. "Please take more care in how you phrase your objections."

_You've got a way to go before you win that big K and shield, Payne._

"The defense claims this, Detective Bartlett: _you_ were the one with the grudge against Bosc! Even here in court, you can't keep from insulting him. He was one of you, and had brought shame on the entire forensics department. He'd made you look like blundering fools who couldn't tell forged evidence from the real thing! How many cases are being reviewed now? What questions are your superiors asking?"

"A...all right! It's true!" he exclaimed, his bowl-cut hair springing upright and spiky. _Whoa, total Jekyll-and-Hyde there!_ "He _was_ a blundering fool. I should have known you'd spot that, being an expert in _that_ field."

_Hey, wait a minute..._

"It's true that I hated Detective Bosc. For years I've worked next to him, seeing him foul up simple tests, destroy valuable evidence, and treat his science handbooks with less respect than his horse-racing forms! Now, because of that incompetent, everything we do is under suspicion! Evidence is being double-checked! Payne there had my work in _this_ case reviewed by D'Anjou! We're all being tarred with the brush of Bosc's stupidity!" He pounded his fist on the witness stand in his frustration, then winced; it wasn't a particularly well-padded hand and desk-pounding was no game for amateurs.

"Then you admit the crime?"

He looked at me in (probably mock) bewilderment.

"What? Are you crazy?"

"But you just said--"

"I said that I admitted having a grudge against Bosc! Well, you're right; I did, and I've said why. Probably a number of my co-workers did, too. But as for killing him--"

"But that's exactly what you did!" I barked. "You found out when Ema was leaving town and stole the gun and gloves from the lab, then sent the note to Detective Bosc. Then, all you had to do was meet him on the train, and go together with him to Ema's compartment. You shot him in the back with the silenced pistol, propped him against the compartment door, removed the silencer, stuffed the pistol and gloves in his pocket, knocked on the door, and ducked back to your own compartment."

"You can't be serious!" Bartlett protested. He glanced at Payne for support, but Payne was too busy watching his big chance slip away from him to formulate any more objections.

_You're on your own now, Bartlett_!

"If you're going to accuse me of murder, you need proof!"

"There's as much proof against you as there is against the defendant, and she's on trial right now!"

"No, that isn't true!" he shot back. "You can't even show that I was on the train!"

_Okay, so maybe he can deal with being on his own._

"If I was a first-class passenger," Bartlett continued his protest, "then the conductor would have recognized me from when he took my ticket."

"Would he? He takes hundreds of tickets a day! Even so, a simple disguise would have insured that your face went unnoticed."

Bartlett laughed.

"Wigs and false moustaches? What am I, a scientist or an actor?"

I slammed my palms on the desk. _That's how you do it, Bartlett._

"A _bad_ actor, Detective, because your lines aren't fooling anyone! Turn up your coat collar, pull a hat down over your eyes, and you'd have all the disguise you need!" I hoped the judge remembered how well that trick had hidden a man's face in the Goodman murder case.

"Would that really work?" asked the judge.

_Serves me right._

"That's an intriguing hypothesis," Bartlett argued, "but it isn't proof, Mr. Wright. You have no proof!"

"Scientifically speaking, he has a point," sighed Ema. "An untested hypothesis isn't evidence."

"Mr. Bartlett is correct, Mr. Wright," the judge said sternly. "I've permitted this line of questioning to go as far as I'm willing to allow. If you want to continue, then show the court evidence to prove that this witness was on the 2:30 Airway Express."

_Oh, man, we got here a lot faster than I thought._ I scanned the courtroom desperately. I'd know this would happen, but I'd hoped to stall it out longer. Had it been enough time for Detective Gumshoe to get what I needed? Had he been able to do so?

_And just how did I get into a situation where Ema's defense relied on Detective Gumshoe, anyway?_

"Mr. Wright?"

_Gumshoe, where are you?_

"Very well, then, in that case the cross-examination of Detective Bartlett is concluded. This witness is--"

The courtroom doors burst open and Gumshoe strode in, waving a piece of paper and the sporting the grin of a puppy who's gotten a new trick right plastered all over his face.

"Hold it, pal! I've got the evidence right here!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Payne shrieked. "What are you running errands for the defense?"

"Hey, I'm the investigating detective on this case! It's my job to gather all the evidence. If Mr. Edgeworth was here, the defense would have had to think of this!"

_Whoa, Gumshoe's showing some spunk! Hope this doesn't end up biting him on the butt come salary review time._

"Could someone explain what this is about?" asked the judge.

"Certainly, Your Honor. Mr. Bartlett claimed to have driven to the airport in response to the department's page. I asked Detective Gumshoe to contact the airport parking lot and check their records." Gumshoe handed me the paper he'd been waving. "This is the fax copy of the parking stub issued to Detective Bartlett on the day of the crime, complete with date, time, and license number. You'll note that it's stamped 'Police--Fee Waived'? The parking lot keeps these separate so they can be sure their records balance."

"Of course, because a detective investigating the crime scene shouldn't have to pay parking fees."

"That's not the point, Mr. Payne. The point is that the 2:30 Airway Express arrives at the airport at 2:55. Somehow, though, Detective Bartlett was on the scene at 1:52. 'Don't let the scene grow stale' indeed, but investigating crimes before they happen is a little much to expect." I wheeled towards the witness. "So tell us: _how did you get there an hour before the crime was reported?_"

"I...that is..." He glanced left and right, as if checking for escape routes. "I was at the airport checking the time and prices of flights, since I have an upcoming vacation. That's why I took the page, because I was already there."

"But in your earlier testimony, you said you drove to the airport _after you were paged_!" I speared my finger directly at him. "You knew you'd have to drive to the lab after the crime in your own car, because there would be police witnesses everywhere who might see you leave. So you got there early, took the 2:00 shuttle from the airport downtown, then turned around and rode back on the 2:30 to carry out your plan! Then you reported in as soon as forensics was paged so that you would be the lead forensics investigator--_and give yourself a perfect alibi for being on the train!_ Isn't that the truth, Detective Bartlett?"

"I...I..."

I tensed for the objection. It always came while they broke down and stammered. Edgeworth had done it before, bailing out a floundering witness at the last second. So had von Karma. But Payne just stood there, blinking, stunned, flop sweat streaming down his face, hoping the witness could save himself.

And missed his chance.

"All right, already! I did it! I couldn't stand it any longer! That idiot had all but destroyed the forensics department's reputation! I've devoted my entire life to perfecting the scientific investigation of crimes, and now I'm a joke! A laughingstock! They'll be laughing at us for years! Using _my_ department as an example of what _not_ to do while investigating crimes! I had to make him pay for that."

"So why frame Ema?"

"Why not? She had reason to hate Bosc, too, and besides...if it hadn't been for her defending her sister's good name none of it would have come out."

I shook my head sadly. I just couldn't understand the needless waste.

"Your Honor, the defense rests."

The judge struck his gavel.

"Very well. In light of this new testimony, if there is no further objection..."

"So...close..." Payne murmured. It was a little hard to understand, since he was bent over the prosecution desk in an apparent stupor.

"This court hereby finds the defendant, Ms. Ema Skye, Not Guilty." As cheers rang out and confetti flew he added, "Bailiff, could you fetch a few towels? If the prosecution keeps sweating like that, it's going to damage the woodwork!"

-X X X-

"Well, you did it, Mr. Wright!" Ema enthused as we left the courtroom. "Although," she said thoughtfully, "scientifically speaking, it shouldn't have worked. You didn't have any decisive evidence against Mr. Bartlett."

I looked down the hall, where Gumshoe was leading his prisoner past a crowd of reporters with bursting flashbulbs. Bartlett had has coat pulled up over his head to hide his face, which was probably not a bad idea given his hair.

"No, I suppose not."

"So why did he confess? I mean, he's a forensic detective, so he should know what the evidence proved."

I shook my head.

"It's not just about the evidence. Heck, if I believed the evidence, I'd never be able to represent my clients! You said it yourself: you have to see all the evidence in the current viewpoint to interpret it. Well, since Bartlett was guilty, he already knew how to interpret the evidence before I presented it."

"I see! It's like knowing the answers to a test before the teacher asks the questions!" she enthused. "You're so busy writing down everything that you memorized that you don't notice if the questions are all there!"

"Um...maybe." _I can honestly say I've never had the problem of knowing too much while taking a test_, I thought, seeing blank answer sheets dancing before me.

"I'm going to work hard to remember that!" she said, clenching her fists in determination. "When I testify, it's only going to be what the evidence honestly says, not what some sneaky attorney wants it to say!"

_Couldn't you have said "prosecutor"?_ "Er, glad to help. Just...do me a favor this time, will you?"

"Yes?"

"When you're going to the airport for your flight this time..."

"Uh-huh..."

"Take a taxi!"


End file.
